


Customized for the Canine

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Please allow me to make amends for my hurtful, if unintentional, neglect.” You throw a glance at the top of her head. “May I offer you a scratch behind the ear? A bellyrub, perhaps?”</p><p>“Oh, would you?!”</p><p>You have left the realm of sarcasm. Possibly, you were never in it to begin with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Customized for the Canine

After everything is over and triumph is unceremoniously overpowered by exhaustion, you scrape out a moment of solitude and silence for yourself behind the corner of the main bridge, still so close you can hear the others' voices as a low, windswept murmur, but separate enough to let down your shoulders and give in to fatigue. You sink down without bothering to retrieve a pillow from your filladex to sit on, simply noting the way your newly acquired dress of divinity bunches inelegantly around your folded legs but taking no measures to rectify the situation. The deck is wonderfully solid beneath you and the wall is a rigid metal blessing against your back. The simple pleasure of having a physical body to exist in among other physical things is one you have never fully appreciated before. 

You take a stab at staring absently into space with your hands lying idle in your lap, immediately find it to be an entirely unsatisfactory method of recuperation due to the instant onset of boredom, and get out your knitting needles and some yarn. On a whim, you pass over your regular steel needles and choose your sharp Thorns of Oglogoth, infused with the forces of darkness. It might be that using tools of this caliber for textile crafts is an act of blasphemy even for one as Godly as yourself. The thought pleases you. The yarn is a lovely merino blend, running thin and fuzzy between your fingers as you ponder what to make of this new project. Its color is green, delicately bright like the tender stems of snowdrops in early spring.  

Perhaps the nuance is a premonition, a first manifestation of newfound abilities, because you have no more than a couple of rows to show for yourself when Jade peeks around the corner, grinning wide as she sets eyes on you.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” she calls, making her way over with a skip and a jump, skirt and hood and hair billowing around her. She is a cheerfully bouncing flurry of motion and her voice is nowhere near anger. “Stop sneaking off!”

Lowering your needles, you look up at her.

“My deepest apologies. Although couldn’t this be classified as “sneaking off” on your part as well? I cannot fail to notice you left our two male companions behind.”

“It’s different! I only did it so two very silly boys could have a very special moment,” Jade says, accompanying the last word with both airquotes and a wink. She sits down beside you, her expression settling into stern determination. “I swear, if those two haven’t kissed when I come back I am going to shrink them down, pick them up and just smoosh them together.”

“If you’re so impatient, why haven’t you already?”

“Because I am super benevolent as a god and also I believe in free will.”

“Up to a certain point.”

“Exactly!”

You smile. Jade is still new to you, you’re not yet used to having her with you in the flesh. You may have seen her before, but the reflection in your crystal ball was too small and quiet to do her justice. It never showed you her dimples, you didn’t know the pitch of her laugh, and you could never have properly imagined the way she sometimes stumbles over words in her hurry to get them all out at once. When she leans closer to take a look at your knitting, her scent, similar to that of sun-warm moss, wraps itself softly around your senses.

“Gosh, I am sotired,” she says, slumping against you, her chin digging into your shoulder. It’s more than mildly uncomfortable, but you don’t shrug her off. You manage a few more stitches before her arms slide down your torso.

 _“So_ tired,” Jade says again. In an exaggerated whisper, she adds: “This is a hint.”

“Impossible,” you say. “Hints are subtle.”

She sticks her tongue out at you.

“Okay, you tell me what I want then, snarkypants.”

“Attention, I’d wager.”

Jade’s arms tighten around you, effectively trapping yours by your side. The needles clink against each other as you’re forced to lower them. She snuggles up against you, hugging you tight, and it surprises you how strong her grip is.  

“So what if I want my best friend to pay attention to me when I meet her for the first time? That is not a bad thing to want and if you think so I will be sad.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, meaning it. “Please allow me to make amends for my hurtful, if unintentional, neglect.” You throw a glance at the top of her head. “May I offer you a scratch behind the ear? A bellyrub, perhaps?”

“Oh, would you?!”

Smothering a chuckle you ready a retort, but as you turn your head to look at your friend you lose your thread. Jade’s eyes are wide and expectant, her cheeks a little flushed. You have left the realm of sarcasm. Possibly, you were never in it to begin with. 

“I keep thinking about it! Now that I am a dog-god-person. It just seems like a thing that would be so, so, so good suddenly.” She tilts her head, her breath brushing your lips. “Is it too weird? Would you think it was weird?”

A day ago you would have dismissed it as undeniably weird, but things are different now. You are different.

“When compared to the events of the past 24 hours? Not at all.” You put your needles down. “I’m generally more of a cat person, but in your case I’m willing to make an exception.”

Jade claps her hands together with a squeal of delight, proceeding to throw herself on your lap. You have no time to prepare for the onslaught and your knees protest painfully before you can adjust. If Jade notices, she doesn’t show it. With a contented sigh, she stretches her arms above her head.

“Take it away, Rose!”

Lying over your thighs the plane of her stomach is smooth, her ribcage a sharp protrusion. Broad shoulders, slim hips, straight lines, long limbs. You lay your hand on her abdomen, testing the water, and underneath the fuzzy velvet of her dress her muscles are taut.  

You start slow, gentle. At first you meander aimlessly but soon you establish a pattern and gather the courage to expand your range, travelling all over her belly and as far up her chest as you dare, careful not to risk coming across the contours of a bra. You wonder briefly if she even wears one – she is considerably flatter than you.

For a while you’re merely stroking her, rubbing a little at times. Then you accidentally crook your fingers. Jade shifts, groaning, so you do it again and again until she is whining eagerly, arching up into you, soaking up the pleasure. Ten minutes in you are scratching rather than rubbing, digging your nails in just a bit, secure in the knowledge that they will be dulled by fabric. Every time you hit a certain spot just below her navel Jade’s legs twitch, her skirt riding further up, revealing more of her striped tights. The intimacy of it makes the blood pound in your ears; her lack of self-consciousness astounds you. Embarrassment creeps around the borders of your consciousness but you push it firmly away. This is just you and her. Nothing else needs to matter.

You are keenly aware of every sensation. Jade’s weight and warmth, your shins prickling from the pressure. The numbing tingle in your hands, the heat from friction in your fingers. Your sleeves sliding over your skin as you move. Saliva pooling under your tongue. The air in your lungs.

“Rose?” Jade says, and you realize you have stopped scratching. Your face is strangely tense. There is a burning in your eyes, your teeth grit together, and when you try to reply no sound comes past the ache in your throat. You meet her eyes, and what you see there makes you think she understands anyway.

She pats you on the shoulder, a gesture that from any other would seem feeble and insincere, but when conducted by Jade Harley becomes a true comfort of unexpected potency. Her touch lingers and she looks at you and she smiles and she remains, heart beating, breathing along with you.

You’re the first to break eye contact. The two of you share a moment of silence, until Jade nudges you.

“You can go back to knitting if you want, I am good for now, I think. What are you making?”

“Earmuffs,” you say, changing your plans without hesitation. “Customized for the canine.”

Jade laughs.

“Aw, I don’t really need those. I have fur!” She catches your wrist to swipe her tongue wetly over your palm. “But I’ll wear them every day.”


End file.
